Rated: M

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them

Dead Or Alive

by:Danigirl

Chapter One

Redemption, Wyoming
October 1891

Every morning from the time she had found herself pregnant and alone at the tender age of seventeen, Margaret Mary Morgan had walked this land. There was peace here at the edge of these mountains, and she had been grateful that her parents hadn't sent her away in shame after discovering their only child pregnant by some drifter who had more charm than honor.

Edward and Lila Morgan had loved their daughter enough to ignore the whispered gossip, the not so subtle snubs of those Easterners who had descended upon the land determined to tame it's wildness for themselves, and stood by the daughter they loved.

They had moved to this land long before those newcomers. Back when the town was no bigger than the general store and the saloon, a stop on those long cattle drives down from Montana. Her parents had the need to build something and prosper, a legacy for their children, to make a life for themselves.

Their only sorrow would be the large family they dreamed of would never be, for Lila Morgan would only give birth to one child. Yet her parents had never made her feel anything but loved. Edward passed on his touch with the horses, Lila nurtured her determination.

And that was why for those first few months she had been so ashamed. Shamed that she had let her parents down, that she had been taken in by a slick line and a few wildflowers, but her mother had understood the brush of first love. Her Pa wanted to stage a hunting party and go after him and skin him up but all Maggie May had wanted was to forget she had ever been so foolish.

It was only on an October morning much like this one, when she had felt the child growing beneath her heart stir for the first time, that she had felt joy. A mother's joy and bond that could never be broken.

She had fought to bring her child into the world. Fought to raise him to be an honorable man. Fought to teach him to ignore the nasty whispers of those no better than they had to be.

Sometimes she thought she had succeeded.

It was only during these dawn moments when she questioned how badly she had failed.

Failed those blue eyes that had once looked at her so trustingly.

Now on this dawn morning, it was no longer simply Morgan land. The year she turned twenty one, her mother passed first of fever. Her Pa had tried to hold on, but Lila had been his heart and now that she was gone his own had simply lost the will to beat. The first day he brought a man over to the house, she had known exactly what he was about and been furious.

Maggie May didn't need a husband to take care of her. She knew how to take care of the land, the ranch hands respected her, and the horses were her heart. She knew that he worried that she would live out her life alone, having given birth out of wedlock, so she endured the parade of available men in and out of their house because she loved him.

It was the first thing he had taken interest in since her mother died. Besides she knew there was no chance that she would marry one of those opportunists anyway. None of them cared about her or her son, all they wanted was the land and if they had to marry her to get it, all the better. They would get a built in bed partner and housekeeper in the bargain.

Then Lucas Spencer walked into her life. With his slow grin, and handsome face. Just a bit of a black sheep, Pa hadn't exactly approved of the gambler, but he noticed her interest and Luke hadn't made his attraction a secret either, not with all those bouquets of flowers he brought over for Sunday supper.

Six months after they married, she went into her father's room and found he had passed on his sleep. The grief had hit her hard, but deep inside she knew he had only been holding on until he knew that she and his grandson were settled with a trustworthy man. She had buried him with a saddened heart, but the knowledge that her parents were together again.

She reached the paddock where she would bring out the colts later this morning that were going up for sale later this week and felt a breeze brush gently across her face, making her heart thump hard in her chest. Slowly she closed her eyes, not willing to believe that which her soul was whispering to be true.

Since the first moment he had drawn breath, she had always known her son. She knew his pain, his joy, his suffering. Her daughter Beth was her father's girl, those two, like peas in a pod. The bond between her and her son almost spiritual. Maybe it came from their reliance on each other in those early days, maybe it was just the way it was meant to be.

All she knew was that as she turned her head to the horizon and slowly opened her eyes, she wasn't surprised to see the lone figure riding in.

Part of her was almost afraid. Ten years since she had last seen her boy. Ten years when he had rode out of Redemption full of rage and grief never to return. So much had happened since then, some that had almost torn this family apart but always she waited for his return. Months would go past without word from him, then she would get a letter in the post in town. Just a couple of lines scribbled telling her he was alive, hoped all was well. Postmarks from everywhere, nowhere, and no way to write back only forced to wait for the next. Wait until the next never came.

Then the rumors started. Dark whispers that she hadn't wanted to believe until confronted with irrefutable proof. Yet that didn't change her love for her boy. He would always be her boy.

She stood there as the figure grew closer, wondering what she would see and knowing it would break her heart.

He rode a beautiful mustang, a soft reddish brown with an easy gait. That much hadn't changed. Like her, her son had the touch with horses as well. She knew that he saw her because he rode straight in her direction, instead of heading to the barn. She wondered vaguely what she looked like this morning.

The denim skirt and boots she had pulled on shifted around her ankles in another breeze. The blue blouse was a birthday present from Beth that her daughter claimed matched her eyes. Her thick dark hair was pulled back so that it wouldn't get in the way when she worked. It had a few strands of white, to match the few laugh lines at her eyes, proving that time had indeed passed since the last time they had seen each other.

The horse stopped, as this man looked down at her. This man was a stranger. A dark brown hat concealed most of his face, giving only the glimpse of a beard growing in and a sensual mouth. A sharp, cold profile that showed no emotion at all. She watched, breath caught, as he slipped from the horse easily. The brown duster a match for the dark brown shirt and trousers he wore.

The wind kicked open the coat, revealing the holster strapped low on his hip, the pair of Colt peacemakers made her stomach clench. Whispered, gunslinger. His stride was smooth, with virtually no sound. There was something about that one fact that made her want to weep.

Then he was standing before her, his head bowed, so she couldn't see his eyes. Ten years had changed much about this man. Beneath the shadow of hair on his face his skin was tanned by wind and sun, giving him an even more dangerous aura. Broad shoulders filled the duster he wore, but held an intensity that made her wonder what burdens he carried still. He looked tough, powerful but it didn't change that sense of isolation.

Slowly he lifted his head, raised a hand to remove his hat, and scrub a hand over shaggy tawny brown hair streaked light by the sun that looked in need of a cut, then clenched it in his fists. She waited for it, a glimpse of the boy she knew, and watched as his jaw tightened with as he looked at her.

Those eyes.

Empty.

Dear Lord what had happened to her boy.

"Mama," he murmured, and waited.

What did he think she would do? Condemn him? Turn him away? Shriek harsh words at him? This was her boy, how could she ever do anything but love him with all of her heart. She didn't know what had brought him back, what had finally broken him and driven him to Redemption, but that couldn't erase her happiness at having him here.

"Jason." She reached up to touch his face, watched him flinch slightly and ignored it, allowing a smile to curve her lips. She pulled him into her arms, felt his close awkwardly around her to squeeze for one brief moment as a shudder rushed through his body. He moved to pull away but she held on, comforting, finding comfort, she couldn't tell which. All she knew was that for the first time her heart felt whole once again. They held each other, ten years dissolving away to ten seconds.

To the blink of an eye.

"Welcome home."

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Samantha McCall slammed the plate of bacon, eggs and fried potatoes down on the table in front of the current victim of her fury, and looked him up and down with a curled lip of disgust. "You look like shit," she groused, enjoying the way Lucky Spencer flinched at the loud tone of her voice. She held the cup of coffee to her nose and took a deep whiff enjoying the aroma of the bitter brew. "I bet this cup of coffee would just hit the spot."

She watched him raise bloodshot eyes to her and held the cup just out of his reach. Wanted to laugh in bitter glee as he winced and looked at her with pleading eyes. Dressed in the dark pants and shirt of his Marshall's uniform, including that shiny star that she had once caught him buffing back in his office, he looked like he had seen better days.

"Sam," he started, then had to clear his throat and his gravely voice, "Please, have mercy on a man."

"You should set an example Lucky," she would have slammed the cup down as well, but didn't want the hot liquid to spill onto her hand. "How does it look the town Marshall drunk for all to see. You're supposed to uphold the law, jackass, not dance all over it."

"Your brother," he began but she crossed her arms over her chest and glared, silencing whatever protest he was going to make.

Her brother just happened to own the town's only saloon, the Evening Star, as well as co-owning this hotel and restaurant, The Sundown, with her. So she did hold Zander partially responsible for Lucky's condition. However Lucky was big boy, and a man should know how much liquor he could hold without making a complete ass of himself.

Before she could storm away he grabbed her hand, "You forgive me Darling?"

"I'll let you know," she frowned and stormed back to the kitchen where her sister in law was currently cooking breakfast for the remainder of their customers.

The McCall family ran to Redemption five years ago from New Orleans. Zander had just married Dusty and rescued her from that brothel where her father had sold her to pay off one of his debts. The adjustment had been significant, especially the brutal winters that she still wasn't accustomed to just yet. Though in many ways, it was better. They didn't have to deal with the class distinctions they suffered through back in Louisiana.

Well, there were a few old biddies out here in Redemption that still turned up their noses at her and Dusty but after five years this was their home. Zander and Dusty lived in a set of rooms in the hotel with their three year old daughter Kristina. She lived in her own room as well, dividing her time at the hotel and the restaurant during the day and nights over at the saloon playing the piano for Dusty as she sang for the customers.

It was how she had met her sister in law. Needing the money she had been forced to seek work at the brothel and been grateful that the piano skills forced on her from her class conscious parents had saved her from that fate. Her sophistication and social graces saved her from the unsavory aspects, the Madam perfectly willing to take advantage of her beauty and poise in the role of hostess. The more prominent businessmen appreciated the elegant touch and showed it with their payment.

It was a step down from the life she had grown up in. The French Creole McCall family had lost all of their money in a bad business deal with unscrupulous partners and been cast into the streets and out of their elegant home. Cast out of the society which her parents had placed such importance in.

Her father dealt with the loss by drowning himself in bourbon and her mother went insane and had to be committed, leaving her and her twin, Alexander, to fend for themselves if they wanted to survive. The betrothal that Isaac McCall had arranged for her, ended once Jasper realized her family fortune was no longer available. The Jacks family refused to link themselves to social outcasts.

Zander took a job at the brothel as well, working as a guard to look after the girls and make sure none of the customers grew too rowdy and that's how he met and fell for Dusty. It took a year of pooling funds before they were able to flee New Orleans and Redemption was about as far away as a person could get.

Out here they had a fresh start, no one knew of their past lives, and now they were actually contributing members of the community. Respected even. Old biddies not withstanding.

Dusty wiped her hands on the apron at her waist, and smiled as she stormed across the room for another plate, "I take it Lucky came in for breakfast this morning."

"And he thinks smiling and apologizing makes up for embarrassing me last night," she muttered, then flopped down on the chair in front of her sister.

"He had a few too many," Dusty sympathized. "Its not like Lucky makes that a habit, honey."

"He pulled me off the stage Dusty, or did you forget that?" She frowned, feeling that burst of anger grow even brighter. "He threw me over his shoulder and carried me out of the Evening Star, proclaiming to all who would listen that he was taking his woman home tonight." She shook her head, "What do you think they think of me this morning."

"That Lucky is," she paused and chuckled briefly, "Fortunate, to still be able to apologize to you. No one believes that anything improper happened between the two of you."

"Only because they probably heard him wailing at my window all night," she groaned, then lowered her voice in a husky imitation of the man she was currently angry with, "Pleeeaasse, Saaammm. You have to marry me."

Dusty put the final touches on a plate of sausage, biscuits and gravy and handed it to her, "Tell me again, why you don't want to marry Lucky? The two of you have been courting for three months now."

"Because I don't love him," she said firmly as she stood, adjusting the new plate with another of pancakes and bacon, "I won't marry Lucky because it's what everyone expects of me. I'm the one who has to live with him. I broke things off the night he proposed, he just refuses to take no for an answer."

"I'm sorry Sam," she murmured and Sam felt a twinge of guilt for being annoyed when she knew that her refusal was hurting Lucky. It wasn't that he was a bad man, on the contrary, he was a very good man. He worked too hard a being good in fact. For some reason he had made it up in his mind that he needed to be everything his father wasn't.

"Don't be sorry for me," she shrugged, "I just wish he would stop."

"Maybe if he realized you were interested in someone else." Dusty suggested.

"There is no one else," Sam pointed out, "And besides, I'm not in a rush to get married, just to hold Lucky off."

"If you say so," Dusty sighed softly, "I know how much you want a family of your own Sam. I see how you look at Kristina."

It was an ache deep inside of her. Not just to have a child, but a family. The love that her twin had found with Dusty and that bond that connected them. This was what she wanted. In the beginning she thought maybe she might find that with Lucky, which was why she had agreed to spend time with him. Except there was something missing, and though she had finally realized it, it had been too late to stop Lucky from proposing to her.

"I'm going to take this out," she murmured, avoiding Dusty eyes, because part of her was feeling weak and she might find herself agreeing to give Lucky another chance. Maybe she would spend a few hours with Kristina.

And hope that stopped her from making a mistake she couldn't take back.